Matrix of the Dead
by Zee-Magnees
Summary: The war is over, a lasting peace finalized. But now a new threat emerges, endangering the Matrix and all those within it. New terrors arise, and with them, unlikely heroes. Exile and Agent, man and machine, none are safe. Violence, language.


**Dislclaimer: **I don't own any part of "The Matrix Trilogy" or any of the characters, concepts and locations contained therein, which remains the property of its owners. Any such things that appear in this piece of fiction are being used solely for my personal amusement and that of any readers, with no intent to make any form of monetary profit. The same holds true for any reference made in this work to any form of copyrighted material.

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**Matrix of the Dead** by Zee-Magnees 

**Chapter One: Containment Failure, part 1**

A black SUV silently pulled to a stop in front of the ironically named Grand Blue Ocean View apartment complex.

It was ironic for a great many things. In the first place, the complex was nowhere near the ocean –in fact, there wasn't a large body of water to be seen for miles around. There was nothing "grand" about the complex at all –it was more of a tenement, really, a haven for drug dealers and junkies, gangbangers and the gangbanged, and the poor unfortunates who couldn't afford to get away and go anywhere else. On top of that, the whole world seemed to have a greenish tint to it, a sickly shade that made one think of heavily strained and watered down pea soup.

The police came so often to deal with cases of drug overdose, rape, assault, and even the occasional murder that officers simply began to ignore the Grand Blue, only driving by to take a superficial look whenever they were called down. Someone had to physically go into the street and flag them down before they would stop to investigate. Petitions had been filed to get the complex declared "Condemned" and razed. Of course, they were all lost in the bureaucratic mire that passed for city government in this day and age.

On any other night, the brick-walled cube that was the Grand Blue would have been illuminated by the lights faintly emanating from its many grimed-over windows. On any other night, silhouettes could be seen in the windows of people engaging in drug-induced debaucheries. On any other night, screams could be heard, of emaciated babies slowly dying of hunger; of children beaten bloody by a drunken parent; of the men and women of the night, calling for "More! More!" On any other night, police cruisers would have driven by without a second thought.

Not this night.

Tonight, the Grand Blue was darkened. The screams had stopped hours ago. It was nearly two in the morning, and nearly a third of the 21st Precinct was parked in front of the complex, cars forming a cordon around the front entrance, along with half a dozen ambulances, a pair of fire trucks, and a SWAT team. National Guard units had blocked off and evacuated an area in a radius of over five city blocks around the complex. Snipers were placed on the surrounding rooftops. All were masked and gloved, and some were in full biohazard containment suits. All the entrances and windows, except for the front door, were sealed in clear plastic and heavily taped.

A man stood in the midst of it all, barking out orders to the officers and EMTs at the scene, voice slightly muffled by the mask covering his mouth and nose.

"Okay, they're in. Dead-eyes in position," he muttered into his walkie-talkie as he watched as the last anti-terror commando, in full containment gear, vanish into the darkness, "Kill anything that's either not in a body condom or not being held by one." He called aloud, "All right people, last chance! Check yer gear. Em-Tees on standby."

Three figures, clad in black suits, eyes covered in black shades, stepped out of the SUV. Each one sported an earpiece in his left ear. They approached the man rapping out commands from behind, faces set in a grim mask.

"Lieutenant," Agent Johnson began, "You were given specific orders. It was vital that you followed them. This is a matter of national security."

_Just who do these Fed clowns think they are, showing up late and wearing Ray-Bans in the middle of the night? And what the hell is up with that attitude?_ The lieutenant rolled his eyes and quickly turned on his heel to face the three agents, "With all due respect, sir, you were late, and my superiors advised me to continue with the op. You can take that 'juris-my-dick-ion' crap, and you can cram it up yer ass."

"The orders were for your protection."

"I think we can handle a bunch of sick whores and druggies," the lieutenant peered over Johnson's shoulder at the two agents behind him, impassive. _What the hell are these guys on? They just stand there, staring. They don't even talk. Can they talk? Do I have something in my teeth?_ "The troopers are in full protective gear. Nothing'll get through that."

"Lieutenant, that won't be nearly enough."

"What, yer expecting some half-dead addicts to fight off some of the best men Homeland Security has to offer?"

"_Men_." The trio began to make their way past him, moving to take up positions around the cordon.

"I bet they're already on their way back."

"No, Lieutenant, your men are already dead."

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"All right, move out! Victor Squad, take the east stairwell. Zulu, west. Alpha stays with me." 

At Sergeant Braddock's command, the ten-man commando team broke into two groups of three and one of four, commanded by Braddock himself, and went their separate ways through the darkened halls of the Grand Blue Ocean View apartment complex. The sergeant took point, leading Alpha Squad to the stairwell at the end of the lobby.

He'd heard the stories, of terrorists fighting their way through scores of highly-trained, elite troopers, all heavily armored and armed to the teeth with nearly everything short of a rocket launcher. They'd invaded government buildings, having come in down from the roof, or in through a window at some ungodly height, some even brazen enough to walk right through the front entrance. In every case, it was the same; a group of people –no more than half a dozen, usually –would blow up a building, hack a system, erase a database, or kidnap someone, then after a brief fight with the local police and a maybe a car chase, would up and vanish into thin air. All in the name of bringing down something they called the "Matrix." No one ever seemed to know where they went, or when they would show up, except for the men in black suits that always came out whenever they appeared. He supposed it was only a matter of time before they tried something like this.

No one made a sound as they climbed up the stairs to the second floor –there wasn't any need to. This what they had trained for, what tens, maybe even hundreds, of millions of dollars went into. They moved as one, shadows against the gloom, eyes constantly tracking, weapons at the ready. The darkness was no obstacle, not with the night-vision goggles they wore illuminating the benighted passages. The goggles only allowed them to view shapes and motion; they missed the sprays of blood on the walls, ceiling, and floor. Fortunately, they were able to finally make out that something was amiss when they came upon the first body. It was on a landing between the first and second floors, laying face down in a pool of liquid, clothed in a bathrobe, with what appeared to be a whole chunk ripped out of the skull.

"Shit. What the hell happened here?" Braddock muttered as he motioned for a young corporal to come forward, "Melendez."

Corporal Melendez was the closest thing Alpha Squad had to a doctor. He lit a flashlight to help him see as he got down on one knee to examine the body, careful to avoid the liquid they all saw now as human blood. The victim was a woman, young, maybe not even 25. Much of her hair had been ripped out, and what remained of her long blonde curls was matted with blood and pieces of her brain. Her shredded bathrobe was printed with bright flowers, explosions of yellow and orange against a violet background. One of her arms was missing.

"Looks like she was eaten, or badly mauled," Melendez remarked. "Deep scratches and bite marks on her arm, probably from trying to defend herself from whatever did this. Fuck!" As he rolled the slim corpse onto its back, the head drooped at an odd angle and the robe fell open to reveal a partially hollowed out torso, "Her neck is broken. What the fuck is this?" Where he expected to see the woman's breasts, there was nothing but shattered ribs and half a lung. Chunks had been ripped out of the belly, exposing portions of intestine and part of a kidney. Behind him, he heard the sound of someone gagging. _Thank God for self-contained air supplies, _Melendez sighed to himself as he wiped a gloved hand on the woman's bathrobe to clean the blood off. He rose, shaking his head to clear it of the thought that they had all just walked into a bad zombie movie.

"Let's move on," commanded Braddock, "Let the doctors deal with this. We need to find the ones who did this and bring out the survivors." _If there are any_, he added silently, _Goddamn fuckers, not enough balls to face us in the open, desperate enough to do somethin' like this. Somethin' doesn't fit. Holin' up in a low-rate apartment as a base, I get. But usin' their own weapon here? And the body. . . ._ This was different. He'd all heard of terrorists fighting like Kung Fu masters, running along walls, and making impossible jumps from rooftop to rooftop, all done in stylish clothes. But this, this was real, very real. This was right in front of him, not some secondhand report printed up in sterile black and white.

Melendez paused. He thought he caught a flash of green light out the corner of his eye, a shade entirely different from what he saw through the goggles, a light that seemed to pulsate and move for the briefest moment. When he turned back to look, there was nothing there but the woman's body.

* * *

Elsewhere in the complex, minds began to stir. 

Minds with a single objective.

_Eat . . . _

A single desire.

_Food . . . _

A single thought.

_Kill . . . _

There had been no food for hours, not since the last person, a woman, had been consumed in the main stairwell. In her rush to escape, she had fallen down the stairs, down two whole flights. Her neck was broken by the time her body stopped at a landing, where it fell prey to those from the second floor apartments, who had heard the commotion of her violent descent and sensed the slowly fading heat of her body.

They found her, three of them, and feasted on her flesh, raking at her soft, freshly moisturized skin, ripping out her organs –lungs, heart, stomach –anything, everything they could touch. Fountains of blood gushed out whenever one of them bit into a major artery, staining the walls and ceiling, spraying her devourers and covering them in the precious fluid. Sometime during the frenzy, she had been turned face down; they were beginning to rip through her robe when she had cooled beyond their ability to sense, and just as rapidly as they fell upon her, they lost interest. They had gorged themselves on her, and were now departing from the corpse. The last one to leave, a boy she babysat every now and again for extra cash, had torn off one of her arms in the frenzy and dragged it off as he retreated, a trail of blood still oozing out of the stump.

Since then, they had lain dormant. There was nothing left to draw their terrible attentions. Not even the animals some of the humans had kept as pets.

The animals became food as well. Their meat was not as filling, but was savory beyond belief. In the beginning, they did not succumb as quickly as the humans did, and most got out of the building before the cordon fell, but not before their flesh had been tasted. Many made it out, past the blocks and were roaming the city, their very natures resisting the dark influence, but waging a futile effort. They would fall. It was inevitable.

The intrusion of the commandos had reawakened those remaining in the complex. Despite the interference of the suits, they still smelled the distinct aroma of human beings. The stink of man infected every rotting nostril.

_Eat . . ._

Footsteps reverberated in the ears of those that still had them.

_Food . . ._

The dull thud of living, beating hearts drew them closer. Closer. Closer.

_Kill . . ._

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**Author's note:**Well, what do you think? This is basically a zombie flick set within the Matrix. It's not exactly a crossover with any specific movie, but Ido plan on drawing little "easter eggs" from various other media. It takes place sometime after the events of "Matrix: Revolutions." Also, I'm having trouble deciding on a title for this piece. For now, it's called, "Matrix of the Dead," but I'm also leaning towards "Matrix: Reanimated." Opinions on this from reviewers are, of course, welcome. 


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